December 5, 2010

I’d like to write about my first (last) evening as Yes, Mistress. Doesn’t every girl laugh with her friends about needing a slaveboy? I’m generally averse to taking control, so this was an interesting experiment. Why do you deserve power over him? I kept asking myself; it seemed to have been earned by his trust and hope in the dynamic, and by making him feel happy, safe, protected and desired. Once he asked to serve I didn’t have to fight for justification; his power was a gift to me, and I got to use it as any present.

This present moved back and forth in realtime: I kick him, he laughs joyfully. He sorts my laundry dark/light, I smile.

Allowing someone to serve you is not a bitch’s phrase: this really does relinquish some control over your tasks, and it requires time and energy to watch over and thank the submissive. I guard my space and tiny rituals, so I am not sure I liked having someone come in and work for me. How strange, right?